Chapter 21: Backstage

Declan's POV

I had two minutes in the green room before the door opened.

I used them to sit on the arm of the couch and look at my hands.

They were steady.

I had just ended my own career in front of forty thousand people, and I had never felt less like shaking.

The door opened without a knock.

Trent came in, shut it behind him, and leaned on it.

His shirt had a wine stain down the front, and his hair had come out of place.

In six years I had never seen it that way.

"Dec," he said. "We need to talk."

"No."

"Five minutes."

"You said that to her, and she said no, and she was right."

He crossed the room fast and stopped an arm's length from me.

"I can fix this," he said, low and quick. "Everything you heard is a misunderstanding. I'll give you half."

"Half of what?"

"The royalties. Half of two million, Dec. A million, tonight, through a lawyer I trust."

"And?"

"A new management deal with no commission. You'll never pay me a cent again."

"For what?"

"For letting this go." He spread his hands. "You say on the radio tomorrow that you got carried away."

"Carried away."

"The girl is talented, she maybe once heard my demo, and we've worked it out."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"You want me to call Hannah a girl who heard your demo."

"I'll give her ten percent."

"Of her own song."

"Of the future. That's generous." His voice rose. "You'd throw it all away over a girl you met three weeks ago?"

"Yes."

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